They Call Me Percy Weasley
by FreezingPenguins
Summary: I like work, I follow rules, I always use the same type of ink and quills.  I collect books.  I don't smoke.  But I know I hold bragging rights for being the only Weasley in this generation to screw a girl at school.  T for language, suggestive scenes.


**They Call Me Percy Weasley**

They call me Percy Weasley. They say I'm boring and snotty and tell me that I'm a pompous prat. Nobody has ever called me a git or a twat but I'm sure it's because they like the alliteration. I mean, Percy the Pompous Prat. That's quite something.

I swear in my head. All the time. Probably more often than even Ron does and that is a whole lot. When I'm feeling joy, I'm _motherfucking happy. _When I'm annoyed with that bloody Rita Skeeter, she's the _lonely_ _self-screwing bitch. _And our good sir Dumbledore is just_ Dickhead. _I can't stand the bastard.

Of course, I never actually say anything vulgar out loud, except once to dad. I think he made out that I was angrier than I was and took greater offence that he should have. Then again, I _was_ angry. Heck, I wanted to _twist his bloody head off his shoulders_ for thinking of his own son as a shallow asshole. See, our job related conversations never go well.

"I've got a job in the ministry!"

"Nobody gets far there. I know."

"I've been promoted."

"Don't be too excited. It happens to most people a few times in their lives."

"I'm junior undersecretary-"

"It's a corrupt ministry we have. You think bring promoted is a good thing? They're using you because they know you love your fucking position too much to see it out just like that. They know-"

"I know it's corrupted-"

"But you're still proud of being so high up in the place aren't you? You're obsessed Percy. How far would you go for your _job_? What's next?"

Here, the whole world took on this dull evil red hue and I felt like plotting my own father's impending death if only for a moment. "SHUT THE FUCK UP YOU SON OF A BITCH. JUST BECAUSE YOU DON'T BELIEVE I COULD GET ANYWHERE IN MY OWN LIFE WHEN BILL AND CHARLIE WERE MORE SUCCESSFUL IN HOGWARTS DOESN'T MEAN I DIDN'T TRY. I GOT TWELVE NEWTS. YOU HAVE NO RIGHT-"

And the rest is history.

I regretted it. Heck, I did so much. My father, even with his complete lack of faith in me, was a good man. He was kind and mostly, he was fair. It appeared he made an exception for me but there always is that one person you clash with isn't there? In my case, it was him. It was the first time I had swore out loud in all of the twenty-three years in my well controlled life.

I hated myself for it though. My father had brought me up. He used to teach me Charms over the holidays until I became better than him. He used to tell me I would one day play Quidditch like everyone else in the house. (I didn't. Not with my brothers on the team.)

It was Christmas then. I was back at home for the first time in months with Rufus Scrimagour.

Worst day of my life.

That night, my friend Gerald came over. He was one of the only people who didn't think I was...boring. He had spent the day with his family and was about to invite me to his house. We ended up in muggle London instead where I got myself a tattoo done to go against my dad's expectations and remember to never swear again.

Gerald has this annoying younger sister called Audrey. If I'm honest with myself, I'm actually rather fond of her. She's quite clever and she's only two years younger than I am. She drinks like a man and swears like a sailor and a I think she knows how screwed up I actually am in my head. She insisted on coming and along getting a matching tattoo for herself. I was in a reckless mood so what the heck, I let her do it and paid for it too.

For an hour of agony, that costs.

So am I still boring? I suppose I am. I like work, I follow rules, I always use the same type of ink and quills of the same length. I collect books. I don't smoke.

But I know I hold bragging rights for being the only Weasley in this generation to screw a girl at school. Not Bill, not Charlie, not Fred, George or Ron.

Me, Penelope, the dark and bad habits. And I say habits because it happened many times more than once.

I liked her a lot. I never loved her.

Now, we had this thing called the Heads' Common Room. It was basically for us Heads to conduct meetings with the prefects once a week and plan them. We could do homework there or write letters or anything you usually had to resort to the Common Room or dorm to do. The Head Girl at my time was a shrewed Slytherin girl called Joei Devlin. As far as Slytherins go, she was alright, but she spent as little time as she could with me and since I liked the peace and quiet of having a room to myself, she therefore didn't. It gave me many opportunities to invite Penny over. I mean, look, I'm neat and the table is clean and rather huge. Wood's a nice smooth surface. I wasn't stupid, I learnt spells to keep her safe. All was good. So why ever not?

It probably didn't help that both Penny and I were brisk walkers and finished our rounds early when we had them together. Broom closets, silencing spells, mild lighting and an a bad habit. Was it breaking the rules? Who cared? We had finished our patrols and our curfew was a whole hour and a half after everyone else's. Even before I became Head Boy we were at this.

I was in Fifth Year. Irresponsible? Impulsive? _Percy Weasley?_

No, maybe, yes.

I would never in a million days under the Sun call myself irresponsible. Because I never am.

Sure, I am the fifteen year old who had sex with a girl half a year younger in school. A girl I didn't have any plans at all to marry. A girl I just liked the company of and loved hearing my name from her lips. A girl I liked to touch and touches I liked. A girl whose mouth was far to experienced as mine was. A girl I got into all sorts of random trysts with. In all sorts of inappropriate places. Yes.

But I researched first. Safety, consent, clarification and then i would begin. I always did my homework before I started everything, or made sure I would have enough time to finish it if it wasn't yet night. I always did what I was supposed to. Irresponsible? Not quite. Not even when I took her out to get drunk.

Oddly responsible is my term. I take away points only after curfew because it is in the rules and I follow the rules. Snogging and sex in general isn't, so if it isn't eleven yet, by all means, I wouldn't interrupt, never mind if the kids were in third year of sixth.

So why does a person like that care about cauldron width for Merlin's sake?

Goodness knows.

My family doesn't really know me. If they did, maybe they would see me in a different light. Maybe not.

Family is strange people. Family isn't like others.

And I realised that I was a part of that Family.

And I would be rather unusual. Unexpected.

So why oh why shouldn't I fight alongside that Family? They needn't know. I needn't tell them. I would still be Pompous Prat Percy who cannot say he's wrong and I would be doing something not against any rules set against me.

Unexpected. Unusual. Queer. Family beliefs.

Why ever not?

With this thread of thinking, I contacted Aberforth. (Who is a damn sight better than Dickhead.)

**A/N: Hello. So this is a strange piece of work for me. The ending was weird, and the entire of it was probably done when I was hypnotised. I have no idea what came over me and made me write this, except for my liking of Percy. The ending sucks that I know but my exams are going on these few days and I had already wasted too much time on this. Can you give me a review please? :) brighten my day. Or tell me you hated it. One word is fine too! Gosh am I greedy. Thanks for reading!**


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